


Dance with Me, My Marionette

by The_Wandering_Swordsman



Category: One Piece
Genre: Bottom Roronoa Zoro, It's one of my favorites so..., M/M, Uke Roronoa Zoro, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-07
Updated: 2011-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-21 04:04:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6037342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Wandering_Swordsman/pseuds/The_Wandering_Swordsman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. A tale about a puppeteer. Slight OOCDoflamingo. A drop of lime. DoflamingoxZoro.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance with Me, My Marionette

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece.

Since he was little Doflamingo loved puppets. He first encountered them when his father had given one on his sixth birthday. It was a marionette with a beautiful glass face and wavy brown hair that went down to its knees. He tied the hair into a ponytail for the hair strands sometimes got tangled with the marionette string. The puppet was almost as tall as him, so it was a struggle for the young Doflamingo to lift the heavy body and move it around, but that did not falter his interest for puppets.

Once his arms were strong enough to keep the puppet standing perfectly still, he trained his fingers to make his marionette dance. It was a simple, yet difficult technique. One mistake and the strings would collide and make a horrible mess. Doflamingo understood this, so he was very careful. He delicately twirled his fingers as his puppet danced under his command. When he wanted to learn more than just dancing, he perused many books relating to puppets so he could give his puppet life.

Within weeks upon playing with the puppet, he had mastered all of the tricks. His parents were quite impressed when Doflamingo performed it during his parent’s anniversary. He showed off his skill in other parties his parents hosted and everyone who watched was amazed.

“The child is amazing. He’s still six, is he not?”

“My, the puppet really looks like it is alive!”

Doflamingo loved the laudations but he wasn’t exactly satisfied. The child decided to buy another so that his first marionette would not be lonely. Upon the toy shop he realized, to his utmost chagrin, that he did not enough money. All of the puppets that sat knee to knee all down the shelves were absolutely beautiful. Their flawless shiny skin, their round sparkling eyes, and the gorgeous dresses and suits they wore, attracted Doflamingo’s attention. He could hear their voices, pleading him to buy them. But he squeezed his fist with the meager amount of change and headed home with a heavy heart.

He asked for his father to buy another, but although the man was impressed with his son’s skill, he refused. His father wanted him to concentrate on his studies, not fooling around with lifeless toys. His father even considered taking the puppet away from him since the child was fully devoted to it. But when he did, Doflamingo went into a crazy fit and locked himself in his room, threatening his father that if he did not have the puppet he was going to starve himself to death.

The father had no choice but to turn away from his son’s hobby. His mother first approved of her son’s skill; it was something recent children were not interested in and that brought a uniqueness which she liked. She just wondered why it was not painting or some other elegant art.

Doflamingo sat on his bed, wondering what to do. His puppet desperately needed a friend. He could see it through its crystal eyes, the sadness and the longing. After discussing with his puppet, he decided that if he couldn’t buy one he shall make one.

The child borrowed many tools from the gardener’s shack and began building his first puppet. His skills for making puppets move were fantastic, but his puppet making was still in the amateur level. When he completed, it still looked like a piece of wood with a scratched up eyes, nose, and a mouth. The doll’s skin was dark brown since it was bare wood and his limbs were mere branches. Still the child was content, proud of what he had created, and he introduced it to his first puppet.

“Mary, look here. Allow me to introduce to you your new friend, Levre.”

Many years had passed and Doflamingo was twenty-six. He had honed his puppet making abilities to the highest degree. His puppets became more dexterous and lively, so much that a child thought the puppets were real dwarfs before catching the thin strings on its head and shoulders. All of his puppets were handsome with attractive eyes, thin lips, comely arms and legs and all clad in silk dresses. He performed in public theatres where hundreds of people paid at the doors to see him play. Other times he walked around in the park with two puppets walking along side of him; that created quite an audience also.

He was showered with the same compliments he heard when he was young, but when his back was turned, a few dark hearts whispered out:

“He is brilliant, but I heard he is mad.”

“Mad?”

“Yes. He is madly in love with his dolls. He talks and caresses them gently as if they’re his lovers. He is mad in the head!”

Of course, Doflamingo did not ignore the criticisms. Upon a first sight of him, a child might cower in fear and adults would feel intimated. He was clad in the same outfits as his puppets; lacey with various vibrant colors. He wore a long scarf made of pink feathers from an exotic bird around his neck and the scarf was long enough to fall to his feet. He always had a smile on his face, but it wasn’t a pure happy smile. It was one of those smiles that had no emotion, an empty one that all puppets had, except his was always crooked and mocking.

His parents had shunned him for his fetish deeds so he was forced to live on his own. He rented an old apartment and there he made his puppets. People of the flat whisper among themselves that every night the window of Doflamingo’s room was lighted, they could see silhouettes of hundreds of dolls and the fearful puppet master creating another. The slow scraping as his knife carved the wood scared the children out of their beds. When they heard the puppet master’s low chuckle when he had finished his creation, it frightened the neighbors, believing that he was possessed by some demon.

People who knew him called him a freak and left him, just like his parents. Everyone assumed he was crazy and even devoted fans kept a distance. It seemed that Doflamingo was never depressed since the puppet master always smiled no matter how inclement the weather was. This was because their ignorance blocked their thoughts; the truth was that Doflamingo wore an invisible mask. Under that crooked smile hid the saddest and most heartbreaking expression in the world.

He always fell into a deep thought, so profound that he stopped his work to reflect on himself. Why, he wondered, why was he so sad? He was happy. Why, he was probably the happiest man in the whole world. Every day he indulged into something he loved and was able to exercise his hobby for others. On special occasions, he was invited to fortresses and castles where he performed in front of kings, queens, and nobles. In return, he received superfluous amount of money to create more luxurious and beautiful dolls. Then why was he feeling so down whenever he crawled into his bed to sleep or when he sat alone eating breakfast?

His puppets told him why he was sad when he performed in front of young children with two of his glorious puppets: an endearing princess named Sophie and a handsome, chivalrous prince named Charles.

‘We are in love, master. This is what you are missing in your poor little heart.’

Love?

Doflamingo had love. He told his puppets that they were his love, a half of his soul. When he said this, hundreds of his puppets in his flat seemed to shake their heads.

He, at one time, had feelings somewhat called love. There was a girl who lived near his childhood home who he felt attached. He and she played in the yard in the mornings of spring and the hot afternoons of the summer. She was an adorable girl; she was kind to everyone she met and treated everyone in the same respect. Many called her a sweet little angel for her fragile frame and goddess like manner. He thought it was love, but he realized he was just attracted to her looks. Her fine amber hair, her milky white skin, her large shiny eyes; all were just like his Mary-his puppet Mary.

Throughout his years of puppetry, he saw things that normal people would not catch until later in life. Perhaps this was the reason he stayed with the puppets. He abhorred all human beings; women, men, it did not matter. Greed, lies, cheat, betrayal, and many of these Doflamingo saw through humans made him cringe. Puppets were different, much different than filthy humans. Puppets were true to their heart and they have never hidden anything behind their backs.

Was it necessary to blend with humans in order to find love and be happy? The thought made Doflamingo sick, but as he pushed that thought away for months, the cloud above his head grew thick and heavy.

One cold November morning, Doflamingo wandered through a forest to cut wood for his new creation when he spotted a body lying amongst fallen leaves. At first, the puppet master ignored it since finding corpses in the dark forests were normal in this era. But he imagined human bodies to be porous with puss and other nasty fluids beginning to seep out and rotting the body from within. The reek of rotten flesh should be smothering his nostrils by now since he was just three meters away from the corpse. The corpse he saw before him had beautiful skin as if it had been killed just recently-or maybe had not been killed at all. Perhaps, it never lived in the first place.

Curious, Doflamingo approached the body and was returned with surprise. It was a puppet and it was almost the size of him. His heart felt like someone had their hands around it and squeezed hard because he felt so sad on seeing such a pitiful puppet. The puppet was stark naked and was broken in so many places. It was covered in mud and filth; numerous scratches were found on the doll’s arms and legs as if it had been dragged on rough road. There was a huge opening across the puppet’s chest as if someone tore it up with a knife. Its left eye was gorged out and only a hollow socket was left with some painful scratches around it. Its green hair was rudely sliced up and was bald in some areas. Detached strings lay lifeless around the body like many hands pleading for another chance. Doflamingo felt the puppet crying and he poured his tears out for it.

With a trembling hand, Doflamingo lifted the body into his chest and cradled it gently like a precious child. Who would treat someone this cruel? He wrapped the cold body with his pink feathery scarf and took it home, forgetting completely about collecting wood.

When he returned home, he rushed into his work room and laid the body onto the table. The puppet was huge so its arms and legs dangled over the edge. He had never seen such a material in his life. The surface of the skin was smooth as glass but soft like cotton. Its eye had a beautiful luster to it, sparkling brighter than the crystals he used. With limited tools, he was probably not going to restore the puppet to its original form, but he was going to try.

He worked painstakingly through the night with a few candles lighting up his work area. Unfinished puppets peered around him, watching their master mend the gashing hole on its chest together. They let out a silent awe as he carefully sewed in new strands of hair around its head. The puppets seemed to give out suggestions to help their master, others just seemed to comment:

‘I think he should have darker color tone in his hair.’

‘What a beautiful face! Clean the grime off master so we could see it better.’

‘My, what long lashes it has! Master, make mine long too.’

Even when all of his candles were extinguished and the morning sunlight seeped through the tops of the buildings and into his window, he still worked. He missed all three meals and forgot to sleep another night as his fingers restlessly moved: fixing here, mending over there, sewing here. When the moon waved good evening in the night sky, Doflamingo completed restoring the doll’s face. Unfortunately, even with his variations of crystal and diamond eyeballs, he did not find a good match. It was either too small, too large, or the color was not quite it. Luck was on the doll’s side; the puppet had eyelids so Doflamingo smoothed out the eyelid and sewed it closed. It now only had one eye but it was better than seeing it eyeless or with a mismatched eyeball. He trimmed the hair so that the lengths were equal and pulled it back a little so it looked natural. With paints, he colored the doll’s lips and skin where the color was scratched off.

While he was fixing its hair, there was an inscription on the back of the puppet’s neck. It read, ‘Zoro.’ Whether it was the name of the creator or the doll itself he had no clue, but he decided to name the puppet Zoro. Standing back, Doflamingo nodded in satisfaction and turned to his still marionettes for suggestions. All grinned in the same fashion so the puppeteer smiled in agreement.

On the second night, he was fixing the doll’s lower legs when he found a hole between the puppet’s legs. Curious as to what it could be, he slipped his fingers in. The interior was padded with some soft material, almost like the outer shell except squishier. He at first thought it was some kind of secret door with special mechanisms to make the puppet move, but after groping through, he could not find anything. No strings, no wire, nothing. It was just squishy. Disappointed, he cocked his head to the side, wondering whether he should seal up the hole or not, but decided to keep it.

He also noticed on the night before that the puppet seemed to have other human like features. For instance, the puppet had two pink nipples on his chest. Doflamingo created hundreds of female puppets but he only formed two little mounds on the chest to imitate breasts. The height, the softness of the skin and hair, almost everything was like a human man. Doflamingo wondered why the creator made such a realistic doll, but he liked it for some reason.

It was half past two when he was complete. Here, the puppet master would begin sewing clothes for the new puppets, but he was exhausted. His hands were shaking profusely and his eyes were burning. It would be impossible to even cut out a piece of fabric. Since the puppet was big, he let it borrow a set of his clothes. Doflamingo was tall, so when he slipped his clothes onto the puppet, the cuffs fell over its hands. The collar drooped and his chest was revealed. He carried the puppet into his bed and tucking himself also, he went to bed.

That night, he had a mysterious dream. He wandered through a world with millions of strings of many colors dangling from the sky. He ran his hands through the showers of strings and it fluttered and waved like a gentle stream. The road disappeared before his eyes, so he stopped in his tracks and looked up. There, in the sky, a woman was suspended in the air with thousands of strings connected her body. She was gorgeous and Doflamingo could not stop staring at her immense beauty. Her eyes sparkled rainbow and her hair shone in multi colors as she smiled at him.

‘You have a kind heart, young sir,’ He didn’t understand why, but it seemed it was the appropriate time to bow down to his knees, ‘thank you very much for helping my poor child.’ His mind finally clicked that this person he was bowing down to was probably the queen or goddess of puppets. ‘For your kind efforts, I shall send you a gift. You will find it once you take leave.’ Doflamingo bowed again, rose swiftly on his feet, and walked back.

He awoke and the first thing he did was look around. He searched the table, the countertop, the floor, and even the foot of his bed to see some kind of box with a royal seal. He didn’t see anything and he felt disappointed. It was a dream and he felt stupid for believing it, when the bed sheets wrinkled and moved on its own accord. Doflamingo stared in shock and slowly turned to the puppet that he had been sleeping with the night before.

Doflamingo’s eyes were met with one onyx like eyes. There were shining in the same kind of luster but there was a flicker of ember. A flicker of life. The puppet master slammed his back against the bed frame when the puppet rose on its elbows. The marionette used both of its arms and dragged its body toward Doflamingo. It looked like it was in pain because it struggled to move the rest of its body. After regaining his conscious back, the puppeteer helped the puppet by lifting it by the armpits and pulling it onto his lap. The puppet master cautiously lifted his hand and ran it through the puppet’s cheek. The puppet closed its one eye and smiled.

Zoro was the only puppet that came to life. Was this the gift the queen in the dream referred to, Doflamingo did not know. Even Doflamingo, the Puppet King, was afraid of the blinking and grinning puppet but in a matter of days he got used to it.

The puppet remained sitting on Doflamingo’s bed while the puppet master was out to perform and it was in the exact same spot when he returned. The puppet was unable to walk since its knees were badly damaged. Just like all of the puppets Doflamingo had, Zoro could not speak but that was not a problem since he often talked to puppets. However, Zoro mouthed out words so the puppet master eventually learned and knew exactly what the puppet wanted. Whenever the puppet mouthed out, ‘I love you master’, it tickled Doflamingo’s heart.

Every time when Doflamingo returned from work, he ran a hand through the puppet’s hair and told him that he was home. The marionette grinned and leaned into the touch, caressing Doflamingo’s hands with its own. Not once Doflamingo took Zoro out of his flat to perform in front of the audience. It was not because the puppet was able to move and might cause tumult. He just didn’t want anyone to see Zoro. He wanted Zoro to himself.

Over the weeks, the audience who ardently watched Doflamingo’s plays and considered themselves a fan saw a change in Doflamingo’s performance. Children or adults, who just sit and watch the performance on a whim, would not have noticed. The puppet master’s performance was speedy; it started by introducing himself but it was extremely short and he ended the story without a sweet and jolly tune he played with his tiny horn. Not quite long ago, Doflamingo performed at least twice a day, but recently it decreased to only three times a week and he only performed excessively if someone invited him to private parties.

Sometimes, during his performance, he would forget a line and the poor puppet would remain standing on the stage, waiting for its master to continue. For the ignorant audience, they laughed whenever this happened, but for the regulars they sensed something was wrong. It was as if he was distracted by something. They feared that if he continued this he would lose his spectators and eventually lose his whole career, so devoted fans sent him letters.

Many asked if he was ill. Some were worried if he was in some kind of depression for he was not putting absolute effort into his performance. Others spilled out their fear that the puppet master was showing signs of disinterest in puppets.

Usually Dolfamingo returned the messages with showers of gratitude and paragraphs upon paragraphs of happiness, but this time all was written in everyone’s message were these words: “Do not fret. I am perfectly fine.”

The mysterious illness did not cure even weeks after they received the notice. No one did not expect that the illness the puppet master was inflicted was love. Was he suffering, others whispered when they passed by the empty puppet theatre. No, he was not suffering; he was in the greatest of spirits. How elated he felt when someone who cared for him welcomed him home! How fast his heart palpitated when he captured those beautiful lips. How giddy he became when he touched his face, his body, and everything his lover offered.

Often times, Doflamingo skipped sleep to spend some intimate times with Zoro. He sometimes forgot sleep all together and stayed awake for three whole days.

During those nights, the puppet master told Zoro many different kinds of stories he had used for his performance. However, that was only the eighth of they did every night. The majority of the nights, what Doflamingo did were experiences he would have never had if he was all alone. Zoro wasn’t able to cry out, but the puppet master could almost hear his lover’s voice by admiring his flawless, flushed face. His lover was honest, so it clearly showed on his face when he was in sheer pleasure. He never could have enough of Zoro, so Doflamingo kept him in bed all through the morning. The following day, there were heavy dark bags under the puppet master’s eyes and he delivered his speech awkwardly. Besides that, his smile was brighter than ever before so no one complained.

One night, Doflamingo swept Zoro onto his lap and looked at him straight in the eye. He traced his fingers over Zoro’s flesh as he unbuttoned the other’s top and whispered in a soft voice. Rummaging through his coat, he pulled out a tiny diamond ring and slipped it through Zoro’s finger.

Will you marry me, Doflamingo asked softly and his lover, smiling, gave one nod.

The preparations for the wedding were quickly formed. Doflamingo had picked the day of their wedding in the beginning of spring, just a month away, so the puppet master was busying himself. Doflamingo grinned from ear to ear as he selected the best fabric for Zoro’s outfit. Would he look better in a simple suit or a luxurious one with puffy laces and roses sewn all over the fabric? He was suddenly reminded of his parents and for the second time in public, Doflamingo dropped a frown. He had not talked to his parents in years after he quit the university to indulge into puppetry. The antipathy and the betrayal the parents pelted at their son when he announced this burned in his memory, but it had been nearly a decade. Maybe their indignation toward him had weakened.

For the first time since Zoro came to life, Doflamingo took him outside. The puppet master carried him into a carriage and it galloped to his old home, two cities away from where he was presently lived. He told Zoro to wait in the carriage and his lover nodded quietly. Before he pushed through the gates, he threatened the rider of the carriage to not lay a hand on Zoro or else he was going to strangle him and attach strings onto his dead body. The man shivered and obeyed his young master, not even turning behind to see Zoro. Grinning in satisfaction, Doflamingo put on his happy mask and swung open the gates and walked languidly through the garden of roses to his home.

He pushed open many doors and to the family room where his parents were idly resting. His mother was sitting next to the grand piano and was playing a gentle tune. His father was bending his body over the grand piano as he watched his wife’s fingers dance over the keyboard when he heard the doors slam open.

“Hello my good father and my dear lovely mother!” Doflamingo announced in a jocular manner, the same way when he introduced himself in his performance.

A scowl wrinkled the man’s features, “What do you want? I have no time to see your pathetic plays!” It seemed that his father had forgotten that it was he who started Doflamingo’s interest in puppets. Ah, but that was the reality of humans. Doflamingo was quite aware of this and swatted the insult off like a mere fly.

“Father, Mother, I brought forth good news! I am going to marry!”

“Marry?” His mother who had stopped playing the piano turned her body around so she could see her son’s face. “Ah, that is wonderful news! Tell me, who is she like?”

Doflamingo snickered, “It is wonderful, isn’t it? I, who abhor all humans and degrade them like pigs, am going to marry!” Smiling, he spun on his heels, “Wait here. My dear is in the carriage. Let me go get him.” He was about to head off when he was stopped by his father.

“Him!” His father raised a shivering finger and sputtered out, “Don’t tell me you’re going to marry a man!”

“Why not? I love him and that is all there is to it.”

Suddenly, his mother let out a howl and she collapsed. His father caught her just in time and pulled her away from the grand piano. Once he carried her to the couch his father charged toward Doflamingo and struck him across the face.

“Leave,” his father’s eyes were inflamed with rage, “and never approach this home ever again, you sodomite! The ties between you and me are gone! Away with you!”

Doflamingo slowly turned to his father and his expression petrified the man. His face was bright with mirth and he grinned brightly. He took a formal bow, “I am terribly sorry that you do not understand me. Farewell my good father.” He stepped out of the home with a proud spirit. Once in the carriage, he crossed his legs and pulled his arms over his head.

“Take me home. I have no business with them anymore.” The man let out a squeak for the young master’s voice was dark and menacing. The whips cracked and the horses raised their hooves and carried the carriage away. Doflamingo’s mood was leavened heavily on his shoulders, until he saw Zoro at the corner of his eye. His lover approached silently and placed a tentative hand on the puppet master’s cheek, the place where his father had struck him. This lifted his spirits and he brought Zoro to his chest.

“Thank you my dear.” Zoro grinned and kissed him tenderly in the lips. From then on Doflamingo kept his promise and never returned there ever again.

-.-.-

Doflamingo and Zoro moved to a remote countryside where they held their wedding. With his remaining riches, he spent it on creating a small cottage on a hill, so he and Zoro could live together for the rest of their lives. Doflamingo only descended to the village when he needed a fresh supply of food and to perform at a church with his prized puppets.

Every day Doflamingo stayed by Zoro’s side. On bright sunny days, he carried Zoro outside so his lover could sit on the grass and stare up at the beautiful clear, blue sky. Doflamingo brought several marionettes out and performed for him. Zoro clapped and opened his mouth wide to show the puppet master that he was laughing. On cloudy days, they stayed indoors and Doflamingo taught Zoro how to make puppets. Zoro and Doflamingo sat side by side as they carved out faces or sewed up dresses. They, Doflamingo especially, were truly happy.

-.-.-

A few years later, a malicious air drifted over the village below and many fell ill. Hundreds of graves covered the lonely hills and the poor village fell into silence only to broken by stifling sobs. The unfortunate wind blew past the cottage on the hill as well.

Zoro was fine, but he noticed the change in Doflamingo’s manner. He watched with a sorrowful expression when Doflamingo only ate less than half of what was placed in front of him and the invisible mask he wore on his face was falling. Zoro’s hands started to shake and stiffen and it was getting difficult for him to grasp objects.

A thin string no human eye could see connected Doflamingo and Zoro together. That string was how Zoro was able to live. Zoro realized, as his husband was spending most of his time in bed and hadn’t touched his puppet making tools in days, his master was dying. Zoro knew Doflamingo needed a doctor, but without his knees to help him walk all the way down to the village and his voice to tell the danger he was hopeless. The days dragged on and Doflamingo was turning pale and he coughed more than he could talk.

Zoro’s hands were cold and stiff as he dragged his lower body over to the bed. There was barely life left in Doflamingo’s eyes but upon the sight of Zoro, he pulled up his smile. With shaking hands, Zoro raised both of his hands to clasp Doflamingo’s. He held it against his cheek and stared into his master’s dying eyes. It was painful to even lift up a smile, but Doflamingo did not want to show Zoro that he was in pain. He saw Zoro part his lips but his vision was so blurry he could not make out what Zoro was saying.

“Z-Zoro my dear, I’m sorry but I can’t understand you--“

Zoro clamped his lips shut, but after taking another breath, he opened them again, “...m-master...” The puppet master opened his eyes. Did he just hear Zoro talk or was the illness poisoning his body to the point that he could hear things? He thought he was dreaming when Zoro spoke again and this time, Doflamingo heard him clearly, “Master, please don’t die.”

Doflamingo let out a cough and beckoned, “Zoro, lean against me so I could hear your voice better.” Zoro did as he was told and pulled himself onto the bed. He sat astride on Doflamingo’s body and, leaning forward, Zoro spoke. It was the sweetest voice Doflamingo had ever heard. It was calm and gentle, and it seemed that when Doflamingo closed his eyes, he could feel the spring breeze on his haggard skin. Zoro used up all of his remaining strength to pour out his voice. He had no control over his body and everything felt numb. The places where Doflamingo touched did not feel the same anymore. Still, Zoro kept a smile as he sang songs and retold stories that Doflamingo had told him. The puppet made his master laugh in the mornings, and lured him to sleep with his lullabies.

Bit by bit, Zoro’s voice grew faint and finally one day, the cottage fell silent.

Doflamingo saw a scenery fold over his eyes like a drapery. He was in a field, much like the hillside of the cottage but broader. Tiny flowers bloomed about him and formed a blanket of pinks, purples, and yellows. The light from the sun was gentle on his skin, a feeling he hadn’t had in days. A cool breeze sailed through the hills and all of the flowers danced and waved their little leaves. He then heard a song; it was the tune he always played with his horn but someone was humming it in a slow rhythm. Doflamingo followed the sound and the flowers sprouted where he had stepped. When he passed over a hill, he saw a vast valley with a tiny village. With hurried steps, he walked down the hill, following the song. Groups of dwarf like people surrounded around the entrance of the town and in that middle of the circle stood Zoro.

Millions of strings hung over the dwarfs like a thick curtain, hiding most of Zoro’s features. Doflamingo approached the circle, pushing away the puppet strings and the marionettes that tilted their heads to the side and giggled. When he stood face to face with Zoro, his lover stopped singing. Zoro slowly raised his hand and smiled a gentle, warm smile. Doflamingo raised his hand also and finally noticed that a string was connected to his wrist. He took a quick look at the rest of his body and saw that he was covered in string. He let out a chuckle and looking back into Zoro’s only one beautiful eye, he clasped his hands over his.

Holding hands, they hummed out the rest of the song and walked, not knowing where they were heading but they didn’t seem to care. Hundreds of Doflamingo’s creations, his puppets, sang along and followed as a light enveloped every single one of them.

-.-.-

Days later, the remaining villagers visited the puppet master’s home to see if he was alright. What they saw sucked the breath out of them. All of the puppets Doflamingo had in the other room were piled up on and around the puppet master’s bed. Hundreds and thousands of them sat, stood, leaned against one another, forming a large circle. The puppet strings were carefully placed so that it formed a web like design all over the bed and the floor. In the middle of the bed laid Doflamingo, still and cold. The largest puppet of them all was lying on Doflamingo’s body, its face close to the puppet master’s ears. Everything was smiling and Doflamingo had the brightest of them all.

Many said he was mad.

Others said he was extremely lonely.

Only a handful saw that the puppet master finally discovered true happiness and the smile on his face was truly genuine.

Indeed, he was the happiest person in the world.


End file.
